


rest, at last

by CkyKing



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CkyKing/pseuds/CkyKing
Summary: Only the King of Light breathes now, his soul living and living andliving.





	rest, at last

The pain and the sadness, the joy and the laughter, the blood and the tears. They all flow into him, push out what they deem unnecessary to make a home out his battered mind.

It hurts. It hurts so much.

But there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. His anchors were ripped away, and he is adrift in the current. Only he is left, alone and at the astrals’ mercy.

_You must die so that the world can live_ , they do not say, but even thoughts have weight in this strange crystal world.

Titan, steadfast as stone, the shackles that lock him in place.

Ramuh, sharp as lightning, the swords that pierce him again and again.

Shiva, gentle as snow, the blessed numbness that keeps him going past his limits.

Leviathan, relentless as tides, the inexorable force that pulls him under.

Bahamut, unbending as iron, silent and merciless, both witness and executioner.

Ifrit is but a faint flicker at the edge of his perception, his constant fury a guiding light in an ever changing world.

His ancestors are both easier and so much harder to bear.

Some of them are gentle and kind, fade away as soon as they breathe their life and power into him. They sing songs of comforts that hum in his bones, cradle him in warmth and light for the brief time that is allotted to them. “Our child,” they whisper, “blood of our blood.”

Others are so filled with rage that they _tear_ into him, seeking the rest that has been denied to them for so long. “You must do what we could not,” they scream, “Let us go. LET US GO.”

The twelve most powerful of the ancients Kings are the worst, their feelings overpowering as he is forced to walk through their memories, learning what they had learned and suffering with each of them in turn. Nothing human is left in the armors they so proudly bear, and it is only duty that keeps their spines straight at they look down on him

Sometimes, when he finds himself reaching to Eos’ soul for mercy (death), the merciless light will be blotted out for a second, turning into a star-filled sky for the briefest time, and he feels loved, even if he doesn’t understand why. The part of his mind that is still _him_ only repeats a single word when it happens (nyxnyxnyxnyx) and still, he does not, cannot, understand; not anymore.

Noctis is long gone by this point. The boy who loved to fish. The boy who wished he had spent a little more time with his father. The boy whose friends and family meant the world to him. The boy who had finally found someone to love, and be loved by in return. Consumed by the light and made into a sword against the creeping darkness  

Only the King of Light breathes now, his soul living and living and _living_.

When he finally wakes from his ten-year slumber, it is hard to remember the people he left behind, their faces blurring with a thousand others that he had lovedfoughtprotectedkilled across lifetimes.

Noctis-that-is-not goes through the motions, meets the boy they left behind as they headed for Altissia, greets his friends, heads for Insomnia.

The campfire is what breaks him in the end, looking into the tear-filled eyes of his closest companions. There is so much he should remember, but doesn’t, and it may be worse than the pain of being reforged into a weapon. And so, he cries for the boy that is already dead, and for the people who think they got him back for a night.

_Soon, soon,_ he whispers comfortingly to the many voices in his head.

_Everything will end, where it all began._


End file.
